


Fountain of Nooth

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [82]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bath, Bathing, Cunnilingus, Existing Relationship, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Undressing, intercourse, the red nose diaries, unprotected intercourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13775100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Plot? What plot? Okay, fine: bath time makes for excellent foreplay.





	Fountain of Nooth

Tom liked to take his time when it came to preparing for a bath. Under the gaze of his dog, Bobby, who dozed in a corner of the bedroom, he slowly pulled off his jumper and t-shirt. He shivered a little, the air prickling the bare skin of his arms and shoulders, the expanse of his back and chest. Taking a deep breath, he eased his jeans down from his hips and then off his legs. Another breath, and his boxers and socks joined his jeans in a puddle that he kicked into his closet to sort out later.

Scratching his stomach, Tom padded into the bathroom. There was a tub full of piping hot water, filling the room with steam that smelled faintly of eucalyptus and lemon. He got in, smiling at Bobby who curled up on the bath mat beside him, and shot a disapproving look in the direction of the vanity, where his fiancée stood poking and prodding at her face.

“Madame,” said Tom, impatiently.

“Hmm?” Carmen sounded languid.

“You’re late.”

She continued to examine her complexion. “What am I late for?”

Tom lightly slapped the surface of the hot bath water. “This. You’re late for this.”

“I’m late for  _ your _ bath?” Carmen smirked. “Did you have me booked for a massage?”

“You’re late for  _ our _ bath,” replied Tom. “And if you are offering me a massage…” He sat back, leaned his head against the edge, and closed his eyes. “I accept.”

Carmen rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror. “Lord help me…”

“I heard that!” Tom complained.

“I meant you to!” She rejoined, with a laugh.

But Carmen rushed through the remaining steps, anyway. Exfoliation, toning, the application of a moisture essence then a serum made from snail mucus. She used the pads of her ring fingers to tap a cooling gel under her eyes, followed that with a retinol cream all over her face and neck. Vitamin E, followed by a rich moisturizer, and a spritz of rose water that made her sneeze. Before it was time to slip off her robe, slide into the tub, and soak with Tom before, inevitably, letting him take her to bed, Carmen paused.

Peering in the mirror she looked, not at herself, but at the reflection of Tom in the tub behind her. She considered the elegant lines of his jaw, the dignified nose and sharp cheekbones. His hair was long, and it clung to his skin around the temples of his head and the nape of his neck, in short curls her fingers itched to touch. A flush crept up from his wide chest to his long neck, a consequence of his sitting in hot water and steam while he waited for her to join him. She drew near, coming to stand by the end where his head and shoulders emerged from the bathwater, and ran her fingers along the arm he had draped over the edge.

He peeked at her, one eye open. “What is it, Button.”

“You’re pink all over,” Carmen said softly.

He blushed further. “It’s the water. Quite hot, you see.”

“Is it?” Carmen asked, even as the steam rose around her.

Tom reached for her, cupping the back of her knee with his hand before running it slowly up the inside of her thigh. “Hot,” he smiled. “And wet.”

Carmen had no reply to give, but made a satisfied whimper as his hand eased its way up between her legs.

“Car?” Tom whispered.

“Yeah?” She whispered back.

“Join me?” Tom asked sweetly.

She nodded, handing Tom the end of the belt that, being knotted loosely around her waist, kept her robe closed. Before he could tug on it, Carmen stepped back. The knot came undone and there she stood, her robe tantalizingly open, just out of reach. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, but then furrowed his brow when, after undressing completely, she eased herself in at the opposite end of the tub.

“You’re at the wrong end, love,” he pointed out.

“Am I?” Carmen arched an eyebrow at him.

“How am I supposed to talk to you when you’re all the way over there?”

“I can hear you just fine from here,” she said.

“Well, I can’t!”

Carmen laughed. “It’s not  _ talking _ you want.”

“Don’t I?” Tom feigned innocence. When Carmen rolled her eyes at him again, he sniffed. “I don’t like what I’m being accused of.”

“And what is that, precisely?”

By way of reply, Tom planted his hands on the rim of the tub and pushed himself up. Kneeling now, he was exposed from the top of his head to just below his waist. Water coursed in lazy rivulets down from his neck and over finely muscled shoulders and arms, chest and back. Narrow hips, and a pert bottom sculpted from years of running.

He didn’t say anything yet, keeping silent as he followed Carmen’s gaze as it moved, ever so slowly, from his face all the way down to where the bath water reached up just past the middle of his thighs. When her eyes stopped, Tom took himself in hand and began to stroke.

So Carmen leaned back, eyelids heavy but open as she watched him. Coveted him in the quiet, let her hands slip between her own legs as they parted in the water. Her breasts hovered at the surface, revealing nipples hardened by the cool air and her own arousal.

“C’mere,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Tom released himself so he could move forward, splashing water out of the tub as he went, and carefully recline back into Carmen’s embrace. The tub may not have been new, but it was wide enough to allow this closeness. Tom arched his back, just a little, so the top of his head rested against her. Carmen pressed her lips to his left temple, then began to run her hands over his head. She let handfuls of water fall between her fingers through his hair, and scratched just under his jaw and chin.

“That feels good,” Tom muttered, turning his face to nuzzle her right breast before kissing it.

“So does that,” she giggled, enjoying the scratch of his beard against her flesh. “Tickles.”

Closing his eyes, Tom listened to the slow drip of the faucet. The snuffling noises from a napping Bobby, still lying on the bath mat next to them. The sound of Carmen breathing in his ear, and her occasional endearments.

“I was just thinking,” she said. “About tomorrow.”

Tom smiled to himself. “What about it?”

“It’s your birthday, baby.”

“Ah.” Tom scowled. “That.”

“What’s that look for?” Carmen tutted.

“Thirty  _ seven _ ,” Tom whinged.

“So?” She whispered into his ear, punctuating her question with a nip to his earlobe.

“I’m so old, Car.”

“I know.” She nipped again. “You’re my old man.”

“Practically forty,” whinged Tom again.

“That’s right.” She turned his head so that she could kiss him on the lips. “Thirty seven. A prime number.”

Tom didn’t draw away, speaking against her panting, parting lips. “Are we still talking about me, or have we moved onto maths now?”

“What did I say about old men before?” Carmen let the tip of her tongue flick just inside his mouth. “Hmm?”

“When was that?” Tom kissed her fully, sucking on the tip of her tongue when he did.

“Last…” Carmen repaid the kiss in kind. “September. When Annie and Aaron were here. After they left. And the two of us…”

[“Shagged each other rotten on the sofa?”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12218541/chapters/28032264) Tom chuckled, letting his tongue linger at the corner of her mouth.

“Of course you remember that,” she snorted. “I was thinking about what I said before.”

“Older man,” Tom reminded her.  [ “A newly single Martin Freeman.” ](http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-4967352/Martin-Freeman-enjoys-casual-outing-female-friend.html)

“You’re so jealous,” she said, laughing.

“No I’m not,” Tom claimed, a bit quickly.

“Old men.“ Carmen kissed his still pouting lips. “Older men.”

“What about them again?”

Carmen inhaled then opened her mouth wider, tightening her grasp when his tongue found hers and massaged it, teasing to the point of near entanglement. “They’ve seen more places.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Done more things.” Another kiss, this time on his cheek, and then she said: “Know more tricks.”

Tom tried to turn around fully, to take her in his arms in the small confines of the tub and its rapidly cooling water. He pushed himself up, steading himself with a hand planted on the tiled wall so he could help Carmen to her feet. He took her in — the dilated pupils, the supple breasts and soft belly, full hips — then pushed her up against the wall and kiss her harder. Let his hands touch and grab as he pleased, and all the while she writhed against him.

But only for so long, the room being cold and the two of them wet. So Carmen pushed him away, but only a little, watching him as he stepped out of the tub first. He engulfed Carmen in a fluffy blue towel when she walked into his arms, cuddling her before they left for the warmth of their bedroom.

Tom unwrapped her, but only after he had seated her at the foot of the bed. Resuming his kneeling position, he placed her hands flat upon the mattress. They both watched as the towel unfolded, revealing her body to him again. When Carmen reached for him, he gently slapped her hand away.

“Not yet,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. “Lie back.”

Doing as she was told, Carmen was surprised to feel Tom slipping his hands behind her knees. And then again when those hands pulled, and she followed until her ass hit the edge of the bed. And then Tom lifted her thighs so they rested upon his shoulders.

His breath was hot and damp on the soft skin of her inner thighs, where his fingers traced lazy patterns. She could feel his nose against her mound, tickling as he closed his lips around her clit and began to suck. Then there was the flutter of his tongue whenever he opened his mouth, and then suction again. A soft pressure, familiar pleasure that centered Carmen even as it became her undoing. And when he teased her further, making a path that occasionally his tongue would follow, it was torturous. But why did her thighs threaten to close around his bobbing head? Why did her hands tighten and pull at the still damp, forever unruly curls of his hair? When Carmen let her hands rest atop his head, petting the delicate hair at the nape of his neck, she felt the steady rhythm of his ministrations, the lapping and the licking and that infernal sucking, lull her nearly into a trance.

Nearly, as his lips and his tongue were relentless. The way her body shuddered and moved seemed involuntary to Carmen, but it was as Tom desired. But it wasn’t enough, so he sucked harder. His tongue probed, and even as she twisted her hips away, Tom growled before burying his face deeper. If Carmen’s gasps were louder, her breathing quicker and shallower, it spurned him on. Because she was close. But not close enough.

_ “Please.” _ She whispered, more to herself than to him, but Tom heard her. Sitting back on his haunches, Tom ignored the perspiration that dotted his face and heaving chest. When he brushed his hand along the tops of her thighs, he was pleased when she squeaked.

“Come.” Tom slid a hand underneath her at the back. Pushing slowly, he helped Carmen flip onto her stomach. He grabbed the nearest cushion, which happened to be the dog’s bed (which he rarely used), and moved it under Carmen’s knees. Tom pushed her knees apart with his own when he resumed his position. But this time he folded himself over, kissing slowly up her back until he could bite the nape of her neck. He pulled her hair away from her face, gathering her hair in one hand while with his other hand he guided his hard cock to her sex.

“Sit back for me…” Tom urged, and when she did he pushed up from his hips and entered her.  _ “Fuck.” _

“Good?” Carmen rasped. When Tom nodded, she could feel the scratch of his beard on her shoulder.

“God, yes…” Tom said dreamily. On the verge of beginning to thrust, he was surprised when she tightened around him from within.  _ “Goddammit…” _ he moaned in her ear.

“Now now,” Carmen teased.

Tom answered her flirtatious impertinence by tugging on her hair. “Brat,” he growled.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Your brat.”

Carmen’s eyes were shut, but Tom’s were not. This wasn’t usual for them — Carmen on her belly, him entering her from behind. Because he loved to look in her eyes when they fucked. He was romantic that way.

But when he pulled her hair, or held her wrist down to the bed with his own hand, Tom was in control. He wasn’t made powerless by her love or by the way she desired him, but instead felt empowered, even emboldened by what he felt for her. Love and lust, ecstatic joy, but more deeply than that he felt that he belonged with her.

And all at once he had to feel as much of her as he could. So Tom grabbed her, pulling her almost into his lap so he could embrace her. The hand that had pulled her hair was now holding her at the shoulder, and the other between her legs again. Fingering her clit slowly even as his thrusts quickened and became harder. Gritting his teeth, Tom focused and if he could have melted into Carmen he would have. This closeness, the urgent and almost furtive way in which he fucked her, was as close as he could get. Inside she was as soft and as wet and as tight and as hot as he could have ever wanted but even as he buried his cock inside her with every stroke, the ache in him grew ever stronger.

_ “Yes.” _ She said, repeating it in time with the thrust of his hips.  _ “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yesyesyes.” _ Carmen got lost in the feeling, the fullness and how big and hard he was whenever he was inside. The momentary loss of him when he withdrew and then the affirmation when he came back. The dizzy speed at which his fingers tended to her clit.

His voice. His fucking voice.

Every time he said her name, whether it be in the heat of passion or in the dullness of daily life. Every time Tom said her name, she wanted him more. Her longing engulfed her further. She fell in love with him all over again. Turning her head, Carmen sought his lips for a desperate kiss. And just as she touched her lips to his, she began to fall apart.

Tom steadied her, even as she pumped into her a few more times. Ragged, uneven, but hard and rapid and then he came inside her. Tom bit into her shoulder, not breaking the skin but leaving a definite bruise that he regarded with tender sorrow as he eased Carmen off of him, and helped her back onto the bed. Tom kissed the spot, pressing his lips to the spot while he checked the rest of her.

“Button?” Tom said, soft and sweet in her ear.

“Hmm?” Carmen’s eyes were a bit hazy and unfocused as she looked up at the ceiling.

“We should clean up.” He kissed the bruise again. “I should put some cream on that.”

“Don’t,” Carmen insisted. “Leave it.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

Carmen shook her head. “No. There’s an ache but the good sort.”

“The good sort?” Tom smiled against her cheek before kissing it.

“Like when you haven’t stretched in a long time.” Carmen took one of his hands in hers and squeezed. “Or more like when you get spanked and it doesn’t hurt. It just sort of, you know, wakes you up.”

“Just as we’re about to go to bed,” Tom replied.

Carmen yawned, then said, “But we need to shower.”

“Not another bath?” Tom asked innocently.

“Definitely not. And I’m pretty sure all those fancy serums I put on my face I either sweated off or…” She grimaced. “Got ground into the duvet.”

“Even the snail mucus?” Tom cracked.

Carmen tweaked his nipple. “Especially the snail mucus.”

“I’ll buy you a new bottle,” Tom offered.

“You better!”

Tom kissed Carmen, cupping her face in his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” Tom replied.

“Even if you are old.”

“I’m still younger than Martin Freeman,” Tom said, a bit smugly. “And taller.”

“Much, much taller.” Carmen smiled up at him. “You ass.”

“Brat.”

“Thank you!” Laughing, Carmen let Tom pull her up as soon as he got back up to his feet. She tripped over Bobby’s bed, shooting an apologetic look at the spaniel who had fallen asleep in the nest of Tom’s discarded clothes.

“I think we owe Bobby a new dog bed,” Carmen said.

“Because we used his bed as…” Tom waggled his eyebrows. “A sex prop?”

She laughed when he nudged the bed back into its usual spot with his foot. “We’re terrible.”

“Yes, we are.” He hugged Carmen close, kissing the top of her head. “The worst.”


End file.
